Just, DON’T: Fragments of Spot
by SnarkyBubble
Summary: It’s been freaking two months since Spot has called me, and I am sick of wondering if he’s dead, alive, or...gay? [modern, AU some JackSpot slash references...not quite Shoerated...]
1. January 3, 2001 12:03 am

**Author's Note:** This is going to be a strange one... sort of an angsty, Alternative Universe look at the relationship between Spot and three people: Jack, a girl, and Spot's boss. The Point of View changes around between segments... let me know if it's confusing as all get out. Just wanted to try something different. Little bits of slashiness...non-shoe rated language and themes ;-) um... Newsies is Disney's. The rest is mine.

* * *

**Just, DON'T  
Fragments of Spot**

by Shoesieness

January 3, 2001 12:03 a.m.

"I freaking HATE that prick!" With a swell of masculine violence, Spot threw one of those cheap metal folding chairs against the wall, and the sound echoed in the nearly empty dressing room.

"Spot—"

"Shove OFF, Jacky-boy." He elbowed that jerk of a best friend in the stomach...that jerk of a best friend who had just grabbed his elbow. Jack Kelly KNEW how he felt about being touched by other guys, so he deserved it.

"OW! Spot! Knock it off." Jack smacked the back of Spot's head. No way Spot could take THAT the wrong way. "Listen to me!"

Spot glared at Jack, that cool steely stare that no one can ever forget, but he kept his mouth shut for the moment.

"He didn't mean anything by it." Jack spoke quietly.

Spot continued to glare. OH, yes he did. Horatio had meant it every night for the past two years. The way Horatio flaunted him to the audience. The references to Spot's freaking magic wand. The comments about how no one knows Spot the way he does.

"Jacky-boy," Spot finally said, his voice just as steely as his eyes. "I'm sick of the public humiliation."

"He ain't publicly humiliating you!"

"All but proclaiming that he and I are gay lovers IS public humiliation."

"Well, aren't you?" Jack said, but half a second later, he found himself flat against the ground, his jaw throbbing. "Shoot! SPOT!"

"You say that again, and you'll be hurting worse than that, prick."

"What are you going to do, rape me?" Jack smirked without thinking.

"SHUT UP!" Spot lifted his leg violently, ready to kick Jack in the stomach, but Jack scooted out of the way.

Spot put his foot down slowly, forcing himself to calm his temper. He wasn't the kind of guy to lose his temper like this. "I'm out of this. I want nothing more to do with Horatio the freaking Great. So thanks for the job, it's been SWELL, but I'm out."

"Spot…you don't mean it."

"I do. I want NOTHING to do with that freak."

"He's not a freak."

"He is. And anyway… things are so different now. It's no longer about the magic or the illusions. That whore made sure of that."

"It's all an act. The audience loves it."

"Why should I put myself out there just so freaks like you can get off on the secret love of WHORE-atio and his little Spot?"

"Dude, I don't get off on—"

"You do!"

Jack didn't answer, so Spot took his silence as an admission.

"It makes me sick," Spot said finally. "All of it."

"So…you're saying you guys AREN'T having a secret love affair?" Jack spoke with caution, standing up more slowly than he normally would have. Perhaps he was worried of making any sudden movements and freaking Spot out again.

Spot narrowed his large eyes. "No."

And suddenly Jack was on him, pinning him against the wall. His mouth was all over Spot's face. His hands were touching Spot's shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his—

And just as instantly, Jack was doubled over in extreme pain, still feeling the shock of Spot's knee in his groin.

"Don't ever touch me like that again," Spot hissed. "EVER."

And then he was gone.


	2. November 19, 2003, 7:03 am

**Just, DON'T  
Fragments of Spot**

by Shoesieness

November 19, 2003, 7:03 a.m.

"Happy Birthday, Baby," I whisper into Spot's ear. He's still asleep in my bed. I've been up for an hour.

He grumbles. "S'too early," he mutters.

"But, Baby," I whisper again, and nibble his ear slightly.

A smile appears on his pouty lips, but his eyes still stay closed. "It'll take more than that to get me up so freaking early."

"I'm not wearing anything…"

Spot's eyes open wide, but he is instantly disappointed.

"Liar."

"I know. But it got you up."

"In more ways than one. Now you gotta make it up to me."

And I do.


	3. October 19, 2000, 8:50 pm

**Just, DON'T  
Fragments of Spot**

by Shoesieness

October 19, 2000, 8:50 p.m.

"She's here!" Spot said, practically squeeing backstage after the show. If anyone else besides Jack saw him like that, Spot's tough guy reputation would have been ruined, for sure.

"She's always here. Freaking every Friday and Saturday, she's here, buddy," Jack answered with a roll of his eyes. "You know that girl wouldn't miss your weekend shows."

Spot shrugged nervously. "So? Any time, she might suddenly decide that really, I suck."

"You don't suck, Spot. You're awesome."

"I don't DO anything, though. I carry props…I hold Horatio's cape. Freaking Horatio the freaking Great's freaking cape."

"So? I guess girls dig that or something." Jack had a smirk on his face. Spot was pretty funny when he got like this.

Spot looked at Jack. "Yeah? Yeah? Shuddup, Kelly. You're so full of it."

"Okay, so I am," Jack said with a laugh. "So why don't you ask Horatio if you can do another trick on your own? Kind of an opening act or something…"

A thoughtful look flickered across Spot's face for a moment. "An opening act…that might just be an idea, Jacky-boy."

"Yeah, sure Spot," Jack said, encouraged by Spot's good mood. "You know that Horatio'd do anything for you."

Spot narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, anything," he muttered. "That's the problem."

Clenching his jaw, Spot transferred his attention to the dressing room mirror. He ran his fingers through his longish hair, adding some hair wax to keep it off his face for the second show, about to start in ten minutes.

"…Anything except let me go out with her," he added.

"What?" Jack asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"You heard me," Spot answered, staring at himself in the mirror. "The prick won't let me go out with her. He's freaking going to FIRE me if I go out with her."

"Why?"

"How should I know?" He raised his eyes, looking at Jack through the mirror, who was standing directly behind him. "No, I do know why. He's jealous."

"Should he be?" Jack asked with a frown.

"No. He should be careful. I 'm not going to let him run my life like this much longer."


	4. July 12, 2003, 6:05 pm

**Just, DON'T  
Fragments of Spot**

by Shoesieness

July 12, 2003, 6:05 p.m.

"I can't be with you anymore, Corrina."

I lift my eyes from the menu to look into Spot's face. He's still looking at the menu, pretending to be casual. That's Spot. Calm, cool, collected. Icy.

"Really." I say. Not a question. Not a plea. Not a cry of alarm. I look back down at my menu. Maybe I'll get the salmon.

"Is that all you have to say?" Spot asks. He's upset at my lack of a reaction.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Well, you could say, 'Shut the bloody hell up, you Fu-'"

"Spot!" I hiss, looking back up from the menu. "Don't swear in the restaurant."

His eyes meet mine. "You sound more upset at the thought that I'd say the f-word in public, than if I left you."

"That's because I know you aren't going to leave me," I answer coolly. I glance back down at the menu. Maybe the prime rib…

"How the hell do you know?"

"Because you've tried to leave me seven other times, and you always come back." Salmon or prime rib?

"Well this time I freaking mean it."

I restrain myself from rolling my eyes. Drama queen. "Why?"

"Why, _what?_"

"Why can't you be with me anymore?" Yeah, prime rib, I think…

Spot is silent, and I'm sure he's not going to answer me. But he surprises me. "Because I'm a freaking failure, Corrina. And things will never get better. And we'll never get to do all the things we dreamed about doing."

"You AREN'T a failure." I feel a wave of compassion. I am such an idiot. This isn't even about me at all. So what am I supposed to do to make it better?

"When we first met, I was something. I was up there on the stage. People were applauding me every night. When you looked at me, you had pride in your eyes. You don't look at me like that anymore."

"I don't?"

"No! You look at me with pity…disgust, even."

"I don't!"

"How can you be proud of an out of work magician?"

"You work!"

"Doing parties for kids and old folks' homes…That is NOT work. That's pathetic."

"What about your other job?"

"I deliver newspapers, Corrina."

I close my eyes and sigh deeply. I don't know how to respond to his insecurities. I don't know how to show him that I don't care WHAT he does.

And I'm sure he takes my silence the wrong way, because then he says, "see?"

"Spot! You are so full of it. You think I am so shallow that your job matters to me?" It's the wrong thing to say. I instantly realize that it's not shallow to want him to have a job that fulfills him. And neither of his current jobs do that for him.

"Spot," I try again. "I want you to do what makes you feel good. And does the idea of not having ME make you feel good?" I sound like a conceited brat. But he doesn't take it that way.

"No."

"So don't get rid of the one thing in your life that IS fulfilling, just because other parts of your life are crappy." I reach across the table for his hand.

He grabs it tightly.

"Alright."


	5. January 5, 2001, 9:59 am

**Just, DON'T  
Fragments of Spot**

by Shoesieness

January 5, 2001

9:59 a.m.  
"Spot, Baby. It's Hor. Listen. I got your message and I'm a bit confused by it. Call me and we'll discuss this like men, alright?"

12:03 p.m.  
"Hey Spotty. Hor again. We need to talk about a new act I got plans for. I know you're feeling sort of pressured, or whatever, but we'll work it out. Call me."

1:15 p.m.  
"Spot? I'm a little annoyed that you haven't called me back. It's Horatio. You know my number. You know how to dial a phone. So stop being a baby and just call me already."

3:36 p.m.  
"I got a great idea, Spot. We'll talk over dinner, alright? Pick you up at 7? We'll have your favorite. Steak."

7:14 p.m.  
"FREAK! Why aren't you at your house? You better not be out with that whore of a girl who's been stalking you. Call me, right away!"

7:21 p.m.  
"SPOT! Freakin' call me already!"

8:02 p.m."Fine, you know what? If you're not going to call me, then you're just going to have to accept the consequences. I got other kids that are BEGGING me to let them be my pretty little boy servants. This is seriously your last chance. You don't want to work for me, you can just not work for anyone. Not a single entertainer is going to hire you as his assistant. I've got connections. You'll see. And as for that girl that you're with, because I just KNOW you're with her…well she better not EVER set foot near me, or she'll be sorry."

9:12 p.m.  
"SPOT! Stop being a whore and stop fooling around. I mean business, you TWIT. Call me!"

11:38 p.m.  
"Why isn't your phone ringing anymore? Did you turn it off? Are you ignoring my calls? You BEAST. You will definitely be sorry."


	6. March 22, 2005, 11:24 pm

**Just, DON'T  
Fragments of Spot**

by Shoesieness

March 22, 2005, 11:24 p.m.

"I love how your hands and my hands are exactly the same size."

I can't help but giggle like a teenager as I cuddle in closer to him, wrapping the blankets tighter around us. The air is cold and, quite frankly, our skin is bare.

"Seriously!" he protests at my silence. "I love it."

I hold up my hand. "That's because I've got man-hands," I say with a groan.

"No," says, taking my hand and kissing each finger slowly, and yet hungrily, as if he wants to devour each part of those hands that he loves. "You've got you-hands," he finally says, before kissing my palm loudly, playfully.

I groan. "That was sentimental, Spotty," I say, but I'm sure it's obvious by the way I kiss him next, that I don't mind in the least.

"So what do YOU love about us?" he asks a moment later.

"I love that we are in our 20s, and yet we pinky-promise that we'll love each other forever." I feel myself blush as I say this, and he laughs.

"Well, pinky-promising makes it more eternal," he says.

"That's true," I say. I hold up my left hand with my pinky out-stretched, and he reaches up with his left pinky and hooks onto mine. Still clutching his pinky tightly, I nuzzle my face into his bare chest.

There are other ways of making our love eternal. I'm not about to start a fuss. But my ring finger looks mighty bare for someone who has been dating a guy for over four years.

"I pinky promise to love you forever," he says into my hair, kissing the top of my head.

"Me, too," I murmur into his shoulder, not looking at him.


	7. November 8, 2002 8:05 pm

**Just, DON'T  
Fragments of Spot**

by Shoesieness

November 8, 2002 8:05 p.m.

"It's your birthday, and you'll strike if you want to, strike if you want to--"

"Shuddup, Jacky-boy," Spot said with a laugh, jabbing his elbow into Jack's side before he picked up his bowling ball.

"You never used to complain about my singing little songs for you," Jack protested. But he obviously couldn't care less. He wasn't offended. Not really.

Spot snorted, brought his arm back, then swung it forward, letting go of the black and red marbled ball. It glided across the floor in a straight line, finally knocking down every single one of the pins.

"STRIKE!" Spot yelled, putting his arms straight up above his head in a gesture of victory.

"WOO!" Jack hollered. He didn't care if Spot was doing better than him. He was glad that Spot was happy. Because Spot was hardly ever happy.

"You Dork," Spot said with a smirk. "You are so far behind me. Stop being a wussy. I know you're trying to let me win."

"HEY! I am not, Spot!" Jack protested. So maybe he was, a little. He took his ball, a maroon one, and let it go spinning down the alley. It wiped out six pins.

"Freak," Spot said, still smirking.

"I am NOT a freak," Jack protested. "That ball, right there? I think it's possessed or something." It shot back up, ready to be thrown again.

"So take my ball," Spot said with a shrug.

Jack smirked, obviously leering at Spot's crotch. "Just one? Or both?"

"Not funny."

Jack laughed, taking Spot's ball and walking with it toward the alley. "OH, Spotty," he murmured with a wink. "You've made it all warm inside." He laughed, throwing his head back. He was obviously very amused.

"Freakin' Jack," Spot muttered. "If Corrina heard you, she'd freak out."

Jack threw the ball forward and it went skidding down the alley. It slammed into the remaining pins. "SPARE!" he hollered, doing Spot's victory gesture. "I guess you were right about letting me handle your ball." He raised his eyebrows, glancing at Spot.

"You are such a freak." By this time his smirk was replaced by that icy glare of his. "Why do I hang out with such a freak?"


End file.
